


Spanks! You're welcome.

by Catminty



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catminty/pseuds/Catminty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless fluff involving Ultra Magnus spanking cocky little Rodimus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spanks! You're welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for something on tfanonkink, but I don't feel like finding the post right now. Or editing to put in italics. Yay~
> 
> Will fix later.
> 
> Update 11/7/14: This has almost 11k views. How.

"I have tried everything," Ultra Magnus bit out in the most even tone he could muster. The rage he had been squashing down for far too long, far too many months, made his vocals drip with barely-restrained frustration. That and, well, it was hard to focus on a level speech pattern when an extremely wiggly, disobedient _whelp_ was trying to clamber off his bent knee. Magnus pushed his chair back and planted a large hand on the back of Rodimus Prime's lower back. "Rules and regulations are there for a reason!"

"I know!" Rodimus' strained shout was muffled by the way he hung upside-down, aft poised in the air and limbs flailing helplessly for something solid to grab. It was at times like these that Magnus truly appreciated his long limbs. The wriggling Prime bent over his knee settled for grabbing ahold of the leg shoved into his waists for support. It was something to hold onto. With a huff of defeat, Rodimus stilled. "Yeah, I know," he said sullenly. "Rules are there for a reason."

The light pressure of a building processor ache lessened in Magnus' helm. He was taken off guard at the sudden forfeit. Not two minutes ago was he literally _chasing_ the troublemaker around his own desk in scandalous disregard of the 'No Running Onboard' policy. The brat ran him ragged. Skeptically, Magnus leaned back to eye the prone form. "That is correct. Do you know why we have rules, Rodimus?"

It wasn't the drawn out pause that made the older mech's hackles raise, but rather the tense line down the young Prime's backstruts in preparation for the reprimand. "...because rules are made to be broken?"

Something snapped. Ultra Magnus reared back his hand without second thought and smacked it so hard against the red and orange backside that a shrill ring echoed in the small, enclosed office. A startled yelp didn't even make it to his audios before his hand came down heavily once more. When his hostage made a desperate attempt to climb down his leg, Ultra Magnus grabbed Rodimus' hips roughly to stop him from squirming away from the next sharp swat. He braced the broad side of his forearm along the small of the whelp's back and belted him thrice more for good measure. 

"No, Rodimus!" The Magnus growled through clenched denta, pausing in his assault. "Why do we have rules?"

Without relenting his grip on the blue leg serving as impromptu anchor, the Prime shakily looked over his flaring shoulder, cheeky grin spread across his face. Magnus' brow twitched in irritation. "What regulation is there against repainting an overcharged mech?"

Magnus' hand collided firmly with the upturned aft once more. In his most professional if frustrated voice, he droned by spark, "Article 27, subsection--"

"Besides!" Rodimus squeaked out, earning another smack. "He said he--"

"--explicitly prohibits the use of phosphorescent enamel by all soldiers with the exception--"

"--got scared in the d--" Smack! "Dark! Now he'll never be IN the dark--"

"--of the mining class in the predefined situations--"

"--so, really, I just did him the biggest favor of his _life!_ "

"--listed in subsection C of mining protocols."

Citing protocols always helped Magnus find his inner focus. He took a moment to regain his composure. Rodimus was the only mech in existence that was capable if pumping his pistons in reverse. Rodimus. The designation even made his cabling tense in frustration. 

Optics narrowed, Magnus glared down at his insubordinate...commanding officer. 

Oh, corrupted files and poorly phrased regulations. Ultra Magnus just raised a hand against his superior. Rodimus deserved reprimand for breaking the rules, but he--he would be _smelted_. 

All at once, Ultra Magnus stood, unintentionally knocking the red mech to the floor in his haste to stand at attention. He tried not to wince at the way the Prime clanged when his face met the floor. 

"Rodimus Prime, sir," he said. Accosting a superior officer; were there any worse atrocities a mech could perform? "I...sincerely apologize for my loss of composure."

Ultra Magnus warily watched as Rodimus slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees then gingerly felt the scuffs along his backside. Was that a _dent_? Oh, if only he could just be struck down by the judicial judgement of all the Magnus' before him. 

Their vents wheezed in tandem, but for completely opposite reasons. Ultra Magnus' optics shot forward when Rodimus rose to stand. 

"Frag," the flame-colored mech groused. "You hit hard." Rodimus bent over the desk, showcasing the paint exchanges on his scuffed plating with a wiggle. The same infuriating smirk from earlier spread beneath energon-tinted cheeks. Ultra Magnus shuttered his optics and put forth the best effort to resist sighing. There was...there was no way. He should be flayed alive rather than being purred at. The grin was audible in Rodimus' voice when he said, "Do it again."

"Rodimus Prime, sir--"

"That's an order, soldier."

...insufferable whelp. 


End file.
